


Good Luck Charm

by meteoritecrater



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteoritecrater/pseuds/meteoritecrater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brittany’s mom takes Brittany and Santana to see Muppet Pirate Movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Luck Charm

"Sansansansansansansansansansansansansansan," Brittany said into the phone, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Sansansansansansansansan."  
  
"I think she gets the point, Brittany," Brittany's mother said, balancing Brittany on one knee and her baby sister on the other.   
  
Brittany pouted into the mouthpiece of the phone. "My mom wants to know if your dad wants to come see a movie with us instead of playing on the swings today because it's rainy and mom says that if we pretend to be ducks and I get froglings in my shoes one more time she's going to be mad. Say yes say yes say yes say yes say yes."  
  
Brittany's mom sighed, looking out at the rain and praying, fruitlessly but fervently, that the weather would clear up in time. Days like this, the mall was packed, and dealing with Brittany's energy, her incorrigible best friend, and a fussy baby all at once was not going to be the semi-relaxing day reading at the park she'd had planned. Especially since Santana’s dad was never that much of a help, even if he decided to stay for the whole outing.  
  
"What? No, silly, the mall, not a pole. And who's Tad? I said your dad. Okay, okay, I'll wait." Brittany's idea of the word wait had her mom snatching for the phone as she leapt from her lap, running to the fridge.  
  
"No snacks, Brittany, we'll get lunch at the mall."  
  
"Yes, mom," Brittany yelled back, but the noises coming from the fridge suggested otherwise. "I'm not snacking!" Brittany said defensively, as her mom leaned against the door frame, one hand pressing the phone to her ear.  
  
"What are you doing in the fridge, then?"  
  
"Checking to see if the eggs are hatching yet. Mrs. Pritchards says that chickens come from eggs if you keep them under lights so I put the eggs under the light but they haven't hatched yet did Mia come from an egg?"  
  
"Uhm--"  
  
"Britts, dad says that that's okay but he's leaving in half an hour."  
  
Of course he was. "That's okay, Santana. Tell your dad we'll come pick you up before then."  
  
"Oh, thanks Mrs. Brittany. Bye!!" Brittany's mom put the phone back on its hook and told Brittany to get her coat, taking one last, longing-filled look, out the window where it was still raining steadily.  
  
**  
  
The kids had been much better than expected. Mia was asleep in her pram, and Santana had been quiet, which had calmed Brittany’s excitement. It wasn’t the first time Santana’s dad had left her to cope with the both of them, but Santana had been disappointed more often recently. Still, she seemed quite happy to eat her icecream and giggle as Brittany managed to get hers all over her face and… the back of her neck?  
  
“Brittany, you are a messy pup,” she said, laughing and grabbing some napkins from the ticket counter.  
  
Brittany wrinkled up her nose and wriggled as she tried to wipe the worst of it off, looking up at the display behind the registers. “Mom, Mom, Mom, can we get the pirate cups?”  
  
She sighed, looking at the ridiculous overpricing for a cup of coke. “Brittany—”  
  
“It comes with a free bandana,” the boy behind the counter said helpfully. She barely restrained herself from glaring at him.  
  
“San, it’s like my name and your name together! Mooom, can we get the bantana?”  
  
“Bandana,” she corrected, about to say no, when she saw the hopeful look on both of their faces. She was sure they didn’t have the slightest idea what a bandana was, but she smiled and shook her head. “Alright, but lemonade, not coke, okay?”  
  
She got two fervent nods, sitting down to put their bandanas on as they drank their lemonade out of cheap plastic decorated with sword fighting muppets.  
  
“You look like a real pirate now,” Santana told Brittany, laughing as Brittany tried to use the straw of her cup as a sword and very nearly spilt the whole thing all over the floor.  
  
They spent more time play-fighting with their straws and, at one point, trying to find treasure under their chairs than they did watching the movie, but Santana couldn’t stop grinning as she dropped her off, and Brittany didn’t stop talking about pirates for an entire week.  
  
**  
  
Even though she’d invited Santana to distract Brittany from her upcoming dentist's appointment, she was still too quiet, and she barely ate anything at lunch.  
  
She hugged Santana as she dropped her off, having heard her inform her daughter seriously, “You need a good luck charm. Dad has good luck cufflinks and he gets really mad when he loses them. It needs to be something that you got on a good day, so you keep some of the goodness. If you wear your bantana, then that means that I’m there too and nothing bad can happen.”  
  
The next day she helped Brittany tie the bandana around her neck with a little brooch, boy scouts style. When she was in the car on the way home, she told her mom airily that dentists weren’t that bad, really, and she didn’t take off the bandana for a week.  
  
**  
  
Although they both grew out of calling them bantanas, Brittany still took hers to every exam and every dance recital, and she knew that although Santana’s had worn out a while ago, she still kept a scrap of hers on her key ring.  
  
When she saw Brittany smiling and blowing a nervous kiss at the camera, she couldn’t help her eyes from tearing up in pride. Her eldest daughter was on TV, her good luck bandana around her neck, and she knew with certainty that although Mia was waving back at her sister, the wave and the kiss were meant for someone else.


End file.
